One to Remember
by Kora
Summary: *updated july 27* this is an idea i have, spawned by bam's request for a racetrack story. it's a dual plot story. where racetrack got his love for gambling and wisecracks. also, his pov of the strike.
1. Any Other Way

this is a rough draft of part of the first chapter of a possible story

_Hey!I wrote this while on vacation, so if it seems choppy, that's why.Well, I'm finally back, and hoping to get to all of the new stories and updates I missed soon, but I have no idea how long it's gonna take.But hopefully not too long._

_this is a rough draft of part of the first chapter of a possible story.Read, review, tell me what you think, and if you say I'm doing a good enough job, I'll continue.Any feedback is welcome!!!!!!_

there it is again.every morning.a guy can really get to hate a person, even someone as nice as kloppman (hate them in the morning, anyways) just by hearing that voice each morning, tearing you away from a perfectly good and hard-earned night's rest.i suppose i should be grateful, none of us bums would ever drag our buns outta bed early enough to get our papes if it wasn't for kloppman.

i pause to shake my head, half sitting, half lying down.it's amazing how much can go through a guy's head right after getting up.my temples begin to throb--this is too much thinking for the morning.i sit up and reach over to the side table, fumbling for my cigar.nothing.then i see it: that croaky pipsqueak has snitched my cigar again.honestly, does the kid have any idea how hard it is to get your hands on a decent cuban (or any other make of cigar, for that matter) these days?i managed to win the one currently being chewed on by that long-lost relative of the frog prince in a poker game a few nights back.grabbing my prized possession, i give a long-coming slap to snipeshooter, and the daily routine begins once again.

get up, get dressed, get washed, and run out the door.deliver the usual wisecracks, usually in the delancy's direction, but anything's fair game, including the headlines.this morning it is a clogged sewer and a two-headed baby from brooklyn.ahhh, life's great, ain't it?i'm the resident gambler, smart-alec, all around fun guy at the manhattan newsboys lodging house.i wouldn't have it any other way.though life could use some spice, adventure, excitement, ya know?something...different, and i don't mean a new newsie.though this dave seems like a good enough guy.one who's going places.

but i can't keep my mind on the new kid and his little brother.as much as i love my life right now, i've come down with a sort of cabin fever.a growing boredom with the same basic routine each day.i want something out of the ordinary to happen.maybe it's 'cause i was a kid and everything's new to a kid, but life seemed so great and full of curveballs when i was young.ah, those days...

i'm gonna stop for a second.i don't want you to go thinking that this is one of those sappy flashbacks that some people throw at you in order to jerk a few tears of sympathy from the audiance.i am merely looking back fondly upon those silver days of my childhood, and you can come along for the ride or jump off the train now.i don't want anyone to go thinking that i'm one of those warm, fuzzy, cuddly teddy bear kinda guys.unless you're young, female, and single, and happen to like those kind of guys, 'cause in that case...


	2. Martha & Antonio

Chapter 2

_Thank you sooooooo much to everyone who's reviewed!! Not only have you guys been awesome enough to review my story, but you've been even awesomer to say such wonderful things about it! I was really nervous about not capturing racetrack's character, but all of your support has been great. You guys rock!!!!!_

_I know there's a fluctuating nyc accent in this chapter (heck, in most of the things I write) but I wrote this at like 6 in the morning and really don't care enough about the accents to perfect them._

Chapter 2

My father was Italian, mother Irish.For those of you who don't know, the Irish and Italians don't exactly smile upon relationships between the families if ya know what I mean. I never understood it: we all have the same chances at winning or losing a bet, so what's the difference? Anyhow, my mother was Martha Higgins and my father Antonio Giuseppe. My mother and father grew up no different, both in low middle class families.

My parents lived in the same town of Worcester Massachusetts. They both went to school together and were in the same class together. They even sat near each other. Anyone who's not a bettin' man would just shrug this off and say it was just a coincidence, but I know better. The world needed a star gambler, wisecracker, and all-around lovable guy. *Pauses a moment, pretending to look around for something/someone. Then, reaches up to smack you on the back of the head.* That's me I'm talkin' 'bout, who else? And what other possible reason could there have been for my parents gettin' tagether other than to have me? But that comes later.

Pop first noticed Ma 'cause she made him laugh. Yeah, this is the girl makin' the guy laugh this time, instead of the other way around. It's really not that hard to believe. See, she would always mutter all these things under her breath at the teacher, and at least once a day say them out loud for the whole class to hear. What would Ma say, you ask? Well, a variety of things. But they were all funny. My mother was a wisecracker, just like me. Taught me everything I know, but that also comes later.

Now it wasn't long till my father asked my mother out. (And don't worry, they were old enough to, we're not talking about a Kindergarten wedding on the playground here, they were about my age. Ma hardly hesitated, than accepted, knowing full well about both of their families ensuing and immediate disapproval.That was only encouragement for my mother, though.She despised it when anyone tried to tell her what to do, and the idea of a forbidden relationship was too tempting to pass up.Like that last bet that ya know you don't have the money for, but just have to be in on.Besides, my father wasn't too hard on the eyes.In fact, he was the most handsome guy in the class.Got that from my father.That's all I got from him, my looks and my life.*Pauses as an undetectable emotion flickers over his face, but is quickly dissipates*For that matter, my mother was quite the beauty herself.

It didn't take much time for the Giuseppes and Higgins' to find out about Pop and Ma.It took them even less time to prohibit the entire relationship.Of course, my parents would have none of it.By then, they both thought that they were in love, and no one could convince them otherwise.So, they ran off to Boston, got married, and had me. 

And now I've run outta papes and my stomach's telling me that it's time to head to Tibby's.I know what you're thinking: that's kind of anti-climactic, right?Well, you better hold onto your pants, 'cause they best is yet to come.*Holds out hands and flashes brilliant smile* Me.


	3. From Manhattan to Midtown to Boston

i just realized that I've been forgetting the disclaimer

_i__ just realized that I've been forgetting the disclaimer. Whoops. Anyhew, here it is:_

_I don't own any of these characters except for Antonio Giuseppe, Martha Higgins, and anyone else who wasn't in the movie. Disney owns everyone else. Don't sue me 'cause that would just be stupid and pointless if you did._

_Alright__, I want to thank everyone who's been reviewing. Kathryn O'Brien, Gailstorm, Ginger, Bam, Dice, ChibiSerenity, Joela Alcott, Rede, Olivia, T.H., Agent Hotpants, Princess MacEaver, you guys all rock! All your encouragement and advice has helped me sooo much! You all get Chocolate Chewy Chips-Ahoy!!! (those things are addictive, I'm telling you!). _

_I also want to especially thank Caroline and Princess MacEaver for helping me when I was stuck on this story._

_This story is dedicated to Bam, who asked me to do this story in the first place, getting the wheels ticking, and Danisha, who's constant help with all the planning/brainstorming for this story has helped keep the wheels moving. Thank you sooooo much, the both of you!!!!_

Chapter 3

"Get up, get up! Sell the papes! What is it with you kids, you're sleepin' your lives away!" No. NOT again. I'm not gonna get up this time. Forget it. They can't make me, YOU can't make me. A guy has the right ta stay in a soft bed if he wants.

"Hey Race! Ya better get outta bed or Ise gonna let Snipes have your cigar!" calls Blink on his way to the washroom. Ha. Does he think that some petty threat is gonna—_What?!_ I fly out of bed and pull on my clothes at record speed. If the horse that I had a so-called "hot tip" on yesterday had gone as fast as I just did, I'd be rich. Well, maybe not rich, but I coulda slept in 'cuz I wouldn't of needed ta sell today.

Glancing over at the side table, I feel a wave of anger wash over me. Cyclops really did give my cigar to that little…when I get my hands on… "Blink! When I get my hands on you!" I rush into the washroom, preparing to pummel Blink when I see him standing there, trying to suppress laughter. He reaches into his pocket, takes my cigar out, and hands it to me.

"Well, it worked. Gotcha outta bed." I snatch my cigar back from Blink with a scowl. Alright, maybe I'm being a little short with the guy, but I can't help it. I was up late last night with a poker game. I didn't lost all my money, but I definitely didn't win either. Blink notices my slight attitude. "Hey man, I'm sorry 'bout the cigar thing. But we had to getcha up somehow." I manage to give Blink a small smile,

"Yeah, I know. It's alright. I'm just a little grumpy this mornin'." Blink nods and goes to finish getting ready. I'm not gonna bother telling you about the rest of the morning because it gets old, the same thing every day. So just hold on, and I'll talk t'ya again when somethin' worth tellin' ya about happens.

***

Well, that didn't take long.Here I am, about ta get my papes, when I notice that everyone has gathered around the steps, and no one looks happy.I go over to Skittery, about to ask him what's going on, when Jack arrives.After that, it doesn't take long for the whole story to come out.And am I mad.Am I ever mad.I haven't been this mad since that fixed game back in '98, but that's a separate story.Then I realize something: this whole price raise thing ain't any different than that fixed game.There's nothing we can do about it, heck, there's even less that we can do about it 'cause Pulitzer's one of the most powerful men in New York.

By now, Jack's in the middle of the group, and everyone's crowding around him, telling him what we oughta do.Of course, I gotta put my two cents in."It's a rigged deck, alright?They got all the marbles."As usual, I gotta say my piece in a gambling, what d'ay call it, meddafour?Anyway, Jack don't like that idea.That little kid, Les, runs up ta his side and tells us ta let Jack think.Ha, this oughta be good.Like I expected, we're standing here forever and Cowboy's still thinking.I roll my eyes, "Ya done thinkin' yet?" and that seems to help him.When I hear what he comes up with, though, I can't help but laugh.I mean, a strike?Sure, the idea's noble and all, but who are we trying ta fool?We're just a bunch of street kids and Pulitzer's too powerful…

But once Jack's got an idea in his head, there ain't no stopping him, like that whole Santa Fe thing.I gave up on trying ta figure that one out awhile ago.Anyway, Jack's in full general of the army mode now (he gets like this sometimes) and…wait, what is he doing?He'd better be careful, I don't think the bulls like it when you go climbing on statues of dead guys.It's supposedly disrespectful or something.All of a sudden, I feel some sort of feeling begin to wash over me.I don't know what it is, but the things that Jack's saying are starting to make more and more sense.I start off all not thinkin' any of this is gonna work, then he starts ta make sense, then this kinda fire comes all over me and I realize that I'd follow Jack anywhere.'Cept maybe the dentist…just the thought a' that makes me shudder.

This whole mix of feelings is sweeping over me now: anger, pride, excitement…this is how the…what were they called…oh yeah, colonists, musta felt when they decided ta revolt against England.Now Jack's standing on the headline board _(what is that thing called?), writing 'STRIKE' on it.If he wasn't in trouble earlier for climbing on ol' Horace, he's in trouble now.But this time, it doesn't matter, 'cause this time we're the Newsboys Union and nothing can stop us till we get what we want._

Next thing I know, I'm on my way ta Midtown.That brief period of time after we decided ta go on strike was like this whirlwind of activity, like those few moments right after they let all the horses go for a race.Before I know it, I've volunteered ta go let the newsies in Midtown know that we're on strike and ta try ta get 'em ta join us.So that's where I'm headed now.Ya can come along if ya want.And ta pass the time, I'll tell ya 'bout what it was like growin' up.

_Alright__, dumb ending, I know, but I had to set up the next flashback and I wasn't sure how.N'kay, well, this is the part where I tell you to review.So review!!!!(pwease?)And once you're done reviewing, you can go r/r two other stories for me, k?First, go check out "Newsies: The Next Generation" by Caroline Gottschalk Jackson, then go to "Memories of a Scab" by ChibiSerenity.If you two are reading this: HI!!!!!.Now, if you like my story, you'll love theirs.So go check those to stories out, and review, or I'll hunt you down and ring your doorbell (or knock on your door) and run away all day, kay?Toodles!_


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